


Hell Hath No Fury

by Apokalyptik



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Eventual Romance, F/M, post-Sarlaac
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:47:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23917030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apokalyptik/pseuds/Apokalyptik
Summary: Boba Fett survives the Sarlaac with the help from a long-time friend and, of course, manages to piss her off by being himself.
Relationships: Boba Fett/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 24





	Hell Hath No Fury

**Author's Note:**

> Just a one-shot ficlet with some lovely angsty romance between Fett and an OC.

The droid picked up Boba Fett from the carrier floor and brought him to the med unit. Though the Hutt was hardly a hygienic being, he was a robust creature, hardly affected by illness and had a nearly impenetrable hide. The unit was for his patrons, who usually got too drunk or who had sustained injuries while securing his bounties. Elena, being a slave, had never seen the med unit, and was glad she never had the misfortune of being treated in a hole such as this.

However, the unit had basic supplies for wounds and burns, which she quickly grabbed off the shelf and laid them out on a trolley near the med-droid.

Boba Fett seemed unconscious, but she couldn’t tell. The one eye she could see where the Sarlacc acid had eaten at his helmet was closed, his breathing laboured. Her hands drifted to the edges of his helmet and paused. She needed to remove it to ensure a clear airway, but after all this time, he had yet to reveal his face to her. Elena sighed. Would he be angry if she did? When his breathing grew more ragged, she grew more resolved. Surely he would allow her this?

As her fingers reached beneath the helmet, Fett’s eye snapped open and he caught her hands in his, squeezing tightly.

“Get . . . out,” he growled slowly.

Elena, in her surprise, was unsure what to say. As her surprise turned to hurt, she held his long-hidden gaze in attempt to defy him. Then, pressing her lips together, she instructed the droid to carry on and left the room. Over years as a slave, she learned there was no room for hurt pride in this world. But this. This rejection from the one person left in her life who she cared about filled her with a sadness she could not push away.

* * *

Joren’s body remained in the carrier vehicle, crumpled on his side, looking like a sleeping boy. It was hard for Elena to muster up the courage to see her little friend’s body, but she knew what had to be done. After he died in the explosion of Jabba's sail barge, she had found his body, still and lifeless, before she found the heaving mass that was Boba Fett further away. Her heart grieved to know that this child spent all of his life in the stinking palace, running errands for galaxy scum. With the evening coming on, the first of the two suns had set, cooling off the desert air and giving her the best window before the air froze.

Towards the east, Elena set off, looking for the best place for a burial. Of course, a desert of endless sand didn’t make any place particularly special. Elena finally decided on a low valley of sand where the wind circled above, to ensure the body would stay buried long enough for decomposition.

After digging a long time, Elena gently lifted Joren and held him one last time – this child who was her only friend and adopted son. Elena kissed his forehead and smoothed his hair one last time. Long-suppressed tears filled her eyes until they finally spilled down her face and made dark spots on the sand.

She lowered the body into the grave, and covered it.

* * *

The night came, and when Elena returned, the droid announced that Fett had stabilized and was sleeping. Exhausted from the burial and spent from her own emotions, Elena busied herself in the shipyard like it was any other night in the palace. But this time, she began work on a small ship left behind by one of the merchants lost in the barge explosion. Though the ship needed much repair, she had all the time in the world to fix it and finally leave Tatooine – and everything associated with it – behind.

* * *

A week passed, and Elena had still not seen Boba Fett. She left him his privacy, and received by reports of the med-droid, that he was on the mend. Her ship was not yet done, as she had to scavenge the others in the yard for parts and to siphon their fuel. She needed every drop to get her into the next star system; she had no money to call her own.

Of course, there was the _Slave I_ still parked in the bay. Lucky for her, she knew from years of working on this famous ship, that anyone who wasn’t Fett would encounter a deadly surprise if the scan did not identify them as its owner. It was a strong deterrent from using his ship for parts – or even stealing it whole – but she knew that his security features were too difficult to hack. Still, with her experience and skill, it was tempting.

As she was contemplating ways to dismantle the _Slave I_ , she heard a noise behind her. Turning, she saw Boba Fett’s limping figure, clad in his now-clean jumpsuit and the old acid-eaten helmet. His exposed eye looked straight ahead, right past her.

“What are you doing out of the med unit?” she asked, as he passed.

He ignored her and limped forward. Still angry at his response the first time, she daringly grabbed his arm. “I was talking to you,” she growled.

The part of his face she could see showed a mix of anger and pain shoot through it. She let go. He brushed past her without a word, heading up the ramp to his ship to disarm the security measures. She watched the bounty hunter disappear as the door closed behind him.

Elena pursed her lips and exhaled slowly. The anger and the hurt she had pushed away was coming to a boil. All sense left her, and she strode up to the Slave until the ship cannons swung around with their sights locked on her.

“Don’t come any closer,” he said through the ship’s com.

She took a step to her right. The cannons followed. She stepped to her left. They swung to face her again. She gritted her teeth, and ran.

The cannons fired, missing her narrowly as she dodged the blaster fire. She dodged more fire, until a blast whizzing past nicked her arm and sent her spiraling to the floor. She held up her hands to shield herself from further assault. Suddenly, the cannons powered down, their heads coming to a bow. There was nothing but silence and smoke. Elena got up and examined her arm. Slightly burned, the wound cauderized.

“That was stupid,” Fett said. He was standing at the door, just as Elena reached the bottom of the ramp. “The ship would’ve blown you up, if I hadn’t nixed the protocol.”

She continued up the ramp until she was face-to-helmet with the bounty hunter. He turned his exposed eye away from her. “I supposed you think I should be grateful to you,” she growled.

“I think you are smarter than to approach my ship uninvited,” he answered, coldly.

Elena smarted at the remark. For years, she had been granted free access to the ship, welcome to perform repairs that would make the Slave a more efficient vehicle for his work. And now, at a time when she needed him most, he shut her out, “uninvited.” Her mind went blank. He cocked his head, and before he saw it coming, she hit him.

The punch landed right on his exposed eye and cracked his helmet down to the jawline. She almost got another chance, but he caught her fist on the second swing and pushed her against the corridor wall. Without thinking, she kneed him between the legs and sent him back a few paces. She threw her fists at him again, which did nothing but sting his burns. All he had to do was grab her wrists and draw her closer to him. She tugged away only to feel the strength of his hands and the futility of attempted escape. He was so close that she could hear him breathing, ragged and short.

Elena was so caught up in the struggle that she hardly realized he had spoken. Between heavy breaths, he barely made out the words: “Stop.”

Elena paused, her fists still captive in his grasp. Despite his pain, he held on with an iron grip. She looked up at him, his eye closed. Suddenly, he released her and collapsed on the floor. Elena stared down at the bounty hunter, stunned. Under the harsh light of the ship’s corridor, she saw his grey jumpsuit blotting dark spots in multiple places. She kneeled down and pressed her hand against one.

Blood.

The sudden sting of guilt spread across her chest. She had provoked him, and now the wounds covering nearly his entire body had cracked open in the scuffle. Carefully, she slid the high neck of his flight suit down to feel for a pulse. She shivered at the touch of his skin against her finger tips. It was there, strong and steady. Taking another look at his motionless form, she knew there wasn’t enough blood for him to black out as he did. She guessed it was the pain that did it.

The thought made Elena chuckle. It was morbidly amusing that the galaxy’s greatest bounty hunter would faint from too much pain. Perhaps, she thought, it was ungenerous to revel in his condition, since the wounds _did_ cover over 90 per cent of his body. She picked up his gloved hand. It was a dead weight. He made no noise and his hand fell with a thud when she released it. She considered leaving him there to wake up on his own. Then again, she thought, perhaps it might be best to get him _some_ medical attention.

***

Boba Fett awoke, unable to speak – his body on fire. He wrestled with the tentacles attempting to restrain him, to pull him back for sweet and slow digestion. The pain almost overtook him, but then, he heard a sound. Somewhere, far off, the electrical beep of an ECG.

When he opened his eyes, he saw that he was once again in Jabba’s med unit. The med droid’s eyes lit up and rolled toward him with a syringe, presumably a sedative. Fett waved it away. “I won’t be needing that. Power down.”

The med droid beeped in acknowledgement. It rolled itself back to its original spot and the round yellow eyes grew dark.

As far as he could tell, Fett was alone. And, he still had his helmet on. _Good_. Then he thought of Elena. Where was she? The only answer to his question was silence amid the dimly-lit room. Her absence struck him sharply. He closed his eyes and sighed.

_But wasn’t it her absence you had wanted?_

It was a voice from the Sarlaac. His eyes flew open. He saw nothing. Looking around the med unit, he expected to see tentacles dancing before him, curling themselves around his body. He blinked. Nothing.

***

For three days, Elena did not see or hear Boba Fett. She didn’t visit him in the med unit, knowing the droids could dispense all the medical care he’d likely refuse from her. He’d made it plenty clear he didn’t want her around – and well, she’d already tried pushing her way through. So much for that.

Working on her ship, Elena blinked the memory away and tried to focus on soldering the control panel wires. Once she got this hunk of junk fixed, she’d leave Tatooine for good. At least she had this to look forward to. A few more wires – and there! – she was done. She switched off the soldering iron and headed out for more tools. As she descended the ramp of the ship, she saw a lone figure waiting for her beneath the shadow of the _Slave I_. Recognizing him, her face hardened.

***

He remained silent and still. He was watching her body language, her face still bearing traces of anger from their encounter three days ago. She, presumably just as leery, also waited and watched. She narrowed her eyes. It was the first time he’d ever felt uncertain. It was alien for him to feel apprehensiveness. He didn’t realize it, but he was _nervous._

He always knew the stakes when he set out for a job. He always knew the odds. And yet, looking at the woman who had been his mechanic for so many years, he was in the dark. They shared a quiet history, one of made up of small intimacies woven into work-related discussions, and a fine thread of trust that interlaced all of their encounters. He never did, in all those years, show her his face or tell her plainly how he felt. This was so he would always know how to define their relationship, to delineate its boundaries.

But now he knew he was wrong. He had always believed their relationship to be tenuous, but he now understood that it was not insubstantial. When she had pushed back against his pushing away, it surprised him. He had grossly underestimated his own feelings and blatantly ignored hers. Where were they now? Could he bridge the gap? He could not tell.

At present, he thought it wise to tread lightly. He wasn’t a joking man, but there had to be a way to soften the hard lines of her face.

“You pack a pretty good punch,” he said. Elena stood unmoved. He began to approach her slowly. He was wearing his helmet, the same one with the broken visor and the crack she had put in it. He was looking directly at her. When he was within reach, she instinctively took a step back.

“You don’t need to be afraid.” he said, adding, “ _You_ knocked me out.”

Her expression shifted slightly. “Well,” she said softly, “Don’t piss me off.” A sliver of a smile crept across her lips. Fett was glad; this approach was working. He tried again.

“That’s my line,” he replied, “but you can borrow it.”

Elena’s eyes narrowed once again, the lightness disappearing quickly.

“I don’t want anything of yours,” she replied acidly, like a shadow had passed over her heart. She turned and began to walk away, but felt his hand land on her shoulder.

“Elena,” he said. She turned to look at him, questioning. He placed both hands on the edge of his helmet and took it off.

Elena stared, her mouth slightly agape. Boba Fett held still as she examined him, her eyes passing over every scar and on the plentiful acid burns mottling his face. She grew somber. “I shouldn’t have hit you. A man covered in burns. It was an awful thing to do.”

There was a long silence after she said this. Then, Fett spoke. “I deserved it. I pushed you away at the time you needed me most, when you lost Joren.”

Elena’s eyes grew full, tears brimming at the lashes. “Oh Joren," she breathed, closing her eyes, "my boy." Fett cupped a hand on her face, watching her heart break that very moment. She continued.

"I mourned him alone. I mourned my years trapped in this scug hole.”

She paused with her gaze still cast on the floor. It took all the courage she had to say what she had hidden for so long. “I mourned the love I had for you.”

Fett felt his face grow warm, something he was not used to. But it was hearing her that she loved him flooded his heart with shame.

“I failed you,” he replied. He lifted a gloved finger to catch the tears as they fell from her cheek.

Gradually, Elena raised her hands and rested them on his chestplate. She looked into his grey eyes, took in his face and burns and all. “Why do you care if you failed me? I’m just a slave, remember? The one who fixes your ship. There can’t possibly be more than that.”

“Of course there is. Always has been,” he began. “I’ve never been able to . . . that is, I . . .”

He hung his head for a moment. Elena peered at him quizzically, waiting for him to finish. Finally, he met her gaze and said, “I am trying to tell you that I love you.”

A slow smile spread across Elena’s lips. And to Fett’s surprise – and pleasure – Elena leaned in and kissed him. He pressed her closer and returned the kiss, their lips tasting each other for the first time. When Elena broke off, she was grinning from ear to ear.

“I love you, too,” she said. “And if you ever push me away again, I’m punching you in the other eye.”

The bounty hunter grinned, “Then you’re stuck with me.”

“As it was meant to be, Fett.” Elena leaned in to kiss him again, wrapping her arms around his neck. He, in turn, pulled her in and held her close - _as it was meant to be_.


End file.
